


Sparse Freckles

by sakurahaiku



Series: Wands and Such (A Collection of Mostly Related Harry Potter Stories) [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Brotherly Love, Canonical Character Death, I always imagined them having an interesting relationship, I always thought they were close, I love these three
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-10-10 00:06:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10424856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakurahaiku/pseuds/sakurahaiku
Summary: Percy’s always been able to tell them apart, always.(Fred is a little brash, a little bold)(George is a little quiet, a little more insightful)





	

**Author's Note:**

> I can't remember the last time I wrote fan fiction at such a waste pace. 
> 
> I always thought Percy, Fred, and George were close. And this is the creation of that head canon, I guess. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Percy’s always been able to tell them apart, always.

 

No matter how many times he feigns ignorance, he can always tell which twin is which. Fred is always Fred. George is always George.

 

Percy can’t really remember their birth. He’s about a year and a half when the twins are born. But he watches them grow up, he knows all of their little tics and differences that set themselves apart from one another.

 

As an adult, Percy is thankful for this knowledge. He’s thankful that he’s always been able to see them as individuals, not as halves of a whole.

 

* * *

 

Fred is a little brash, a little bold.

 

His eyes are a little smaller, his cheeks a little rounder. He gets more freckles on his forehead then George does.

 

He’s the brawn of the duo, more rash and impulsive then his twin. He’s more prone to cruelty, especially in pranks against Percy.

 

But Percy knows that his little brother isn’t a bad person. Because he’s more impulsive., Fred is more likely to surprise you in wonderful, wonderful ways.

 

When he’s older, Percy fondly remembers his thirteenth birthday. He spent the day being tormented by his twin brothers, and had felt incredibly annoyed that his birthday had to be ruined by his brother’s actions. George had caved first, and had left Percy’s present under his pillow for when he went to bed. It was a book on the history of magical law in East Asia, and George had worked odd jobs for their magical and muggle neighbours to buy it.

 

Percy still owns that book. Its pages are worn and faded, but George’s messy writing saying “Happy Birthday Percy, Love Georgie,” is still visible on the first page. Percy had long since charmed it to never disappear.

 

But it’s Fred, at 11:55 at night, who surprises Percy the most. Percy wakes up when Fred crawls into bed with him. Percy remembers being bleary eyed as Fred whispers “Happy Birthday,” in Percy’s ear. He remembers Fred giving him a hug and placing some sort of device next to his head.

 

“So you have something to distract you from studying,” Fred had whispered.

 

It was a little metal cube, that functioned like a puzzle, though it was constantly changing. Percy figured George probably made it, but it was Fred who probably had the idea. It was Fred who wanted to give this to Percy.

 

When Percy left home years later he had tried to throw the little device in the River Thames.

 

He couldn’t do it.

 

* * *

 

George is a little quiet, a little more insightful.

 

His eyes are a little bit larger, his shoulders a tad bit broader. His freckles tend to sit more sparsely on his cheeks.

 

He is the brain of the operation; more talented at potions, understands herbology better. He’s more likely to stand back when Fred rushes forward, even if he ends up charging too.

 

George is more open with his emotions. Percy knows this doesn’t mean that George shows them all the time, but he’s more likely to show it when need-be.

 

Percy remembers a fifteen-year-old George at Hogwarts, when Sirius Black was supposedly going to kill everyone. Percy, who was head boy at the time, had been informed that George hadn’t gone to either his transfiguration class or his potions class, even though Fred had. Fred had said that George ran off to the loo and just hadn’t returned.

 

Percy found his younger brother sitting against a tree, looking over the lake. Percy had almost screamed, had almost lost his temper, but changed his mind when George looked up at him.  The older brother sat down next to other and Percy felt George lean into his shoulder. Absentmindedly, Percy wraps his arm around his younger brother and George burst into tears.

 

“Percy,” George had whispered, “I’m scared. I’m scared, I’m scared, I’m scared.”

 

And Percy had rubbed George’s shoulder, and rested his head on his younger brother’s, and whispered “I’m scared too.”

 

When Percy left home, moments like that with George was one of the things he missed most.

 

* * *

 

Percy knew that George didn’t really know how to be alone.

 

Sure, the younger boy was able to move around by himself and do things separately, but at the end of the day he had a twin whom he did most near everything with. They lived together, they opened a store together, plotted together, invented together. There was never a need for them to do things apart.

 

Yet, even though they did everything together, they didn’t do everything the same.

 

Fred was impulsive and had big ideas. George was more practical and was able to bring these ideas to fruition. George had more than once told Percy that Fred would lean over his shoulders while he was brewing potions, talking loudly about whatever idea it was they were brewing that day.

 

George had all but stopped brewing and creating when it was only him. He only started again when Angelina and Ron and Ginny gave him ideas.

 

* * *

 

Fred died in front of him, because of him.

 

Percy had only rejoined his family an hour or two earlier, but he was saying goodbye to one too soon.

 

Fred, who had always wanted Percy to laugh and joke, had died smiling from a jape his older brother made. One of the few he had ever heard Percy makes.

 

When the fighting was done, Percy sat next to his brother, stroking the hair on an unmoving head. Even with his eyes closed, his eyes were still smaller then George’s. Percy tried tracing his fingers between the freckle’s on Fred’s forehead, but there were too many of them.

 

He looked at George, one ear missing, eyes too large for his grieving, sunken face.

 

Percy remembers that he had wanted to reach out, but he didn’t know how to. Not anymore.

 

* * *

 

Percy spent the first month after the war living at the Burrow.

 

He didn’t know how to navigate his family; too much had changed for that. Percy had to navigate the suspicious glances of Ron and Ginny, the overbearing nature of his mother, the sad smiles of his father, the ‘I-don’t-know-how-to-deal-with-people-anymore’ glances from Charlie, the pitying looks from Bill.

 

Mostly he didn’t know how to deal with George. George, whom he had always seen as an individual, had lost himself when he lost Fred.

 

Percy did what he thought he did best, he kept his distance. He blamed himself, always would, and felt that George blamed him too.

 

But one night, George climbs into bed with him, and Percy gets flashback to a night nearly eight years previous, when Fred had done the same.

 

They’re both too old for this, but Percy shifts his body to make room for his little brother. He can’t hear his brother crying, but he knows that George is.

 

“I’m sorry, Georgie,” Percy had whispered

 

“Stop saying that,” George whispered back.

 

And Percy held his little brother, and they fell asleep like that.

 

* * *

 

George lives on Percy’s couch the week before he re-opens the joke shop.

 

It doesn’t matter to George that Audrey is more or less living with Percy now, and Audrey doesn’t mind that much either.

 

Percy understands that George had wanted a place for a few days that didn’t scream ‘Fred’ so often.

 

And so when George unceremoniously falls asleep on the couch, Percy gently places a pillow under his head and a blanket over his body, and tries not to pray for George to get more freckles.

* * *

 

George could never stop missing Fred, could never close that hole that was created inside of him.

 

But Angelina helps, with her quick smiles and wit. She understands, she had loved Fred too. She fits a little oddly against him, but she fits nonetheless.

 

It’s Percy who helps more. Percy, who had always been so in touch with George’s emotions, always welcomed him with open arms.

 

And if anyone is bothered that the two of them monopolized the family’s names when they have children named Frederick Percival and Molly Georgina they don’t say anything.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know why like half of the sections involved beds it just happened that way RIP me


End file.
